"He is a greedy hound, Carter-me-lad, between you and me. Let me fill up your glass. No, don't put your hand across it. Well, I'll finish the bottle if you won't. You're open, just as a matter of form, to giving a lien on that cargo you're shipping? Just as a matter of form, of course, in case you peg out before things can be squared up?"
"Certainly, and I'm willing to give five per cent. per month for the accommodation."
"Oh, come now, me-lad, ten per cent.'s the usual. But I don't want to be stiff with an old friend like you, so we'll call it seven and a half." Captain Image went to the drawer under the chart table and unlocked it. "Come, now, say what you want. Anywhere up to fifty pounds."
"I couldn't possibly do with less than a hundred," said Carter definitely, and with that they began openly to wrangle. But it turned out that Captain Image, even with the help of his financial partner, Mr. Balgarnie, could only raise seventy-four sovereigns, and with that the other had to be content. He gave his bond, and stood at the head of the M'poso's ladder ready to go back to his boat. But Captain Image with genuine hospitality dragged him back.
"I'm not going to let you go like this, me lad. I've one turkey left in the refrigerator, and if you peg out afterwards up those beastly rivers, I'd always like to think I'd stood you one good dinner when the chance came in my way. Come now, Carter-me-lad; turkey-chop? There's not another skipper on the Coast that would make you an offer like that."
Carter laughed and gave in, and turned towards the flesh-pots. He did not like turkey. Once in Upper Wharfedale his father had come home from Skipton with thirty turkey poults, which the family reared with very vast care, and thereafter had to eat. Turkey once per annum is a luxury; twice cloys; but thirty times, when legs follow breast, and wings are succeeded by side-bones, would weary any man living. But by custom in West Africa, turkey from a steamer's refrigerator is the height of luxury, and Carter recognized the hospitable motive.
Captain Image, when mellowed by food and wine that night, talked of Miss Kate O'Neill, and Carter behind an elaborate indifference listened with a hungry interest. She was floating rubber companies it appeared with enormous success. She had very nearly been engaged to a law-sharp named Austin, but had got out of it in time. She was reported in Liverpool to be struck on some palm oil clerk on the Coast, but Captain Image proclaimed that to be rot, and what did Carter-me-lad think?
"Well, of course, there was Cascaes," said Carter judicially, "but I don't see there was anyone else. All the rest of the men she met out here were either married or engaged."
But George Carter whistled cheerfully to the stars as his boat-boys paddled him up through the steaming mangroves to his abiding place that night, and Mr. Balgarnie and Captain Image nudged one another delightedly as they listened to his music.
Button and Maidson's launch, that ought to have served the factory in Copper River, turned out upon inspection to be even worse than Captain Image had forecasted, and the agent in charge was most enthusiastic in accepting the two five-pound notes that were offered for her. And thereafter for Carter and White-Man's-Trouble began a period of savage toil.